At last, I have seen the Pixies.

Well, tiny little Pixies-shaped figures on a far away stage.

We went to the best of the V Festival concert last night. New York Dolls, Phoenix, Jarvis Cocker and the aforementioned tiny little Pixies at the Myer Music Bowl.

I've said unkind things about the Music Bowl in the past, and I have not changed my mind. I'm sure it's wonderful for Carols by Candlelight, or summery picnics on the hill listening to the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra. But the sound is muddy, the hill slope is uncomfortable to stand on, and it was bloody cold.

I got there halfway through the New York Dolls set. Seminal proto-punk glam rockers. Sound a bit like the Ramones. Or more accurately - the Ramones sound bit like them.

Phoenix's entire set has just slipped out of my mind. Sort of 80's West Coast rock? Possibly French? Can't remember. The crowd seemed to like them.

Jarvis - lanky, bespectacled, gorgeous Jarvis. Blathering on between sets like a bad comedian about unusual coaching methods at the recent World Swimming Championships, or whether rock music stunts plants . Doing pushups. Doing his lanky dance, all knees and elbows. He was great. It's a pity I don't really like his new album, but I suppose you can't have everything.

And then, the Pixies.

Hordes of drunk middle aged guys stopped cramming up the bar area and came down to cram up the hill. The Pixies opened with "Bone Machine". The crowd roarded. Giant inflatable beach balls bounced overhead. The second song was "Monkey Gone to Heaven". And then Black Francis stopped the song after the first verse.

"Hang on, hang," he said. "This is where the Pixies draw the line. We don't do beach balls."

Laughter. The balls disappeared. Francis bantered with Kim Deal about where they should pick up "Monkey" from. They started. They stopped again. More banter. Which was funny, in a "fuck you for liking our big hit single" way. Then they finally got back to it properly.

They were tight and polished. Perhaps they sounded a bit tired during some of the earlier songs, but they grew more passionate as the evening progressed. And despite all my reservations about the venue, it was great to hear these songs live.

It's just... yes, they were great. But obviously I've been spoiled by seeing too many small bands in small venues, becasue I just find the whole stadium rock thing so unengaging. Angelica has some nice photos that show how tiny and far away the band were.

They finished up with "Gigantic". Over the outro, Kim Deal's little girl voice chirped "Goodnight, Charles. Goodnight, Joe. Goodnight, David. Goodnight, everybody." And then they were gone.

...

I've been reading David Foster Wallace's Consider the Lobster. Emulation being the sincerest form of flattery, I really want make some profound observations here. Something about there being a reason why the English language uses "distant" as an antonym for emotional engagement. Something about how if you can't see a performer's expressions, you can't really say you've seen the performance. Maybe even some convoluted thing about how the spatial distance between myself and the band reflects the distance in time between when I first fell in love with the Pixes and now.

But I've got a headcold, and I'm not sure I could pull that off at the best of abilities. Let me just says this:

At last, I have seen the Pixies. And they were great.

They were just great way, way over there.

The Muppet Jabberwocky

I knew this had to be out there.

The Muppets, doing Jabberwocky.

Jabberwocky is only poem I've ever been able to memorise. I remember seeing this on The Muppets when I was young, not long after I read the Alice books for the first time. Sure, they're playing it for laughs. But something about it just touched my soul - the dark woods, that beautiful Jabberwock. Even the way it plays out against a single backdrop, as surreal as a Magritte.